


Our Path is Dark and Dirty (but Honey You Make it Shine)

by Flaming_Skulls



Category: Avengers Assemble (Cartoon)
Genre: Brother-Sister Relationships, Brotherly Love, Character Development, Character Study, Family Feels, Hyperion Needs a Hug, I Have Nothing Against Staten Island, M/M, Marshall Needs a Hug, Marshall and The Boogeyman are the same person, Mutually Unrequited, Protectiveness, Siblings, Unrequited Crush, Unrequited Love, Unresolved Emotional Tension, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Villain Study
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-27
Updated: 2016-06-27
Packaged: 2018-07-18 13:39:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7317451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flaming_Skulls/pseuds/Flaming_Skulls
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Marcus Milton--better known as Hyperion--isn't a good guy by any means, but neither are any of the other people he knows. That doesn't mean all villains are bad and even they have vulnerable side that the media, the heroes, and even other villains don't see. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Attempt at character depth for the villains and my OCs of Avengers Assemble.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Our Path is Dark and Dirty (but Honey You Make it Shine)

Hyperion watched Boogeyman flip through various pages of a report he snagged from a S.H.I.E.L.D outpost located mid-state. You could tell he wasn't trying to read them, but the way the hooded man tensed, Hyperion got the impression that something about those reports upset him. The way he held the papers to his covered face, like he didn't believe them. As Marcus stood behind him, not being able to read any word, he grew more curious. Not only because Hyperion had helped the Boogeyman infiltrate the small, unchecked outpost without any debriefing or why he was helping in the first place, but also why they were so important and why Boogey kept them to himself. Hyperion liked Boogeyman, Marcus liked Marshall, but they fought a lot. Quite literally. The big man never forgave himself for that one instance when he nearly killed the Boogeyman. Marshall had secrets and those secrets kept Hyperion away just as much as they allured him. He hadn't even met Marshall until a few months ago, in all the years he knew the Boogeyman, Marshall was still a new entity. So to be called unexpectedly by the man you love-hated was something that threw him for a loop. Hyperion was never summoned, he only came when he wanted. It was like the Boogeyman, Marshall, knew how to work around him.

With back still turned, the shadow teleporter tucked away the report deep inside his trenchcoat and gradually relaxed. His lean back arched as he took in a deep breath and Hyperion was disgusted with himself at how his eyes made a steaming trail up and down.

"Thank you for the help...," Boogey said in a low tone as he turned to face him. Hyperion also hated the way he felt himself perk up and hang on every syllable that came out of that mouth.

"I don't quite understand why you needed it in the first place. You seem capable on your own, Boogeyman," Hyperion voiced, crossing his arms not in superiority, but to close himself from letting his companion read him. Boogeyman was very perceptive. Apparently, it came off that way and the shorter man tensed again. It was moments like these where Hyperion wished he was as perceptive as Boogeyman was, was as wise as he. He knew who he was. A literal alien; a dumb, muscled pawn with narcissism and a twisted view on the world that made him the villain. Marshall stuck with him anyway.

"It's...not a proud decision. I didn't want to drag you into this. It had to be done..." Broken sentences. One thing Marcus knew to read. Boogey was struggling with himself on the inside and was about to leave him hanging. Hyperion stepped closer to keep their moment stuck between them, keeping their words between them and not floating out to the streets.

"You were never interested in what S.H.I.E.L.D collected."

"This file is different. It tells secrets."

"Then why me?"

Boogeyman fell silent. Long enough for Hyperion to think their conversation was over and backed up, waiting for the elusive shadow-man to vaporize out of existence. Instead, his gloved hand twitched and out came a deep sigh.

"Grim Reaper and Crossbones didn't want me to go. You were support..."

Hyperion's chest jumped with an unvoiced chuckle. "So I'm your baby sitter now?"

Boogeyman's twitching hand made a fist. "Support," he repeated forcefully and low enough to sound like a sin. The word was foreign to Hyperion's superhuman ears. He was never described as 'support', only 'the muscle' and 'chess piece' given by the Avengers and the Cabal respectively.

"Don't look for me." With that, the Boogeyman was erased from his line of sight and swallowed by the shadows that loved him. Hyperion stepped into the darkness away from bright street lights but didn't feel Marshall's presence within them. He could be down the street or across the country by now. Hyperion swallowed the lump in his too dry throat and wiped his sweaty palms (he never sweated this easily, what happened?) on his cape. He knew exactly where Marshall went, but chose not to follow. Instead, he reported back to the Citadel with a (most likely) fuming Nighthawk waiting for him. Power Princess too if his luck was blossoming tonight.

~

"Where were you?" Two upset voices demanded when Hyperion returned later that night. Nighthawk was furious and that fury transitioned to Power Princess. 

"Teammates can't go out whenever they want, Hyperion! You are tied down here and you aren't meant to go around willy nilly. You hear me?! You stay here and only go when I say go! Got me?!," Nighthawk lashed out, making the woman next to him flinch. "I know who you're with every time you're gone, you sick bastard."

Power Princess was caught by surprise. "Who's he with?" She didn't know. She was only upset that one of her soldiers disappeared without the rest. He was going rouge and that was something that her feelings for him could get around. What she didn't account for was that he was being influenced. Someone else was in his sights instead of she.

Hyperion left them when their leader started to explain all the over-exaggerated details about who he was 'seeing', who was making him unfaithful to their cause. He didn't want to hear Nighthawk's sick lies about Marshall. He knew if he did, he'd let loose and quite possibly kill them or get himself killed, whether Nuke was home or not. He knew his temper was his weakness, but so was Boogeyman and when those two collated, the city and his team suffered. Entering his living quarters, he stuffed the hard pillow over his ears to block out the shouting and forced himself to sleep, the sweet sound of Marshall's voice in his mind pulling him.

~

"Do you know where Marshall is?" 

It had been weeks since Marcus had heard from the blonde. (To be more specific: two weeks and three days but who was counting?) He hadn't seen hide nor tail of the Boogeyman since the night of the raid and Hyperion was losing his patience with himself. He hated himself for waiting for Marshall's call. Things at the Citadel calmed since he hadn't had anyone to sneak off with, but now he was stuck with the lingering looks and questioning gazes from Power Princess. She had tried cornering him on one occasion to get information on who exactly he was with outside the team, but he quickly evaded and fled to his room. She was jealous, he knew, but he didn't care. It wasn't like he shared her feelings anyway, and soon the woman would get the hint and leave him be. He hoped. Nighthawk was no longer mad at him, but kept an eye on him like...well like a hawk. 

Hyperion decided the best time to sneak out was midday in civilian clothing. He had never been caught and figured since he was already out looking for the Boogeyman for the past two weeks, he might as well cut his losses and check the one place he promised himself he wouldn't invade. Marshall's home.

Marshall lived with his non-biological brothers on Staten Island in a run down apartment building across an equally run down school. Now both were nice, but they had obviously seen better times. Hyperion wondered why exactly they chose a building close to the school. Maybe for better coverage? There had to be some reason for living within walking distance of a high profile area, but Marcus wasn't going to dwell. It wasn't really his place and he knew if he asked either one of them, he'd end up with three different answers and even more confusion. They liked to be inconspicuous, and what was more inconspicuous than three full gown men sharing an apartment? In Staten Island's eyes, it was perfectly acceptable. Hyperion didn't know where Reaper kept his ship or how Crossbones managed to sneak in his prized arsenal, but they were well respected, shifty guys so he wouldn't be surprised if they forced the residents to stay quiet or actually smuggled their equipment in. He could also tell that maybe it was a bad idea to come, judging by the way Eric was eyeing him.

"I don't know no Marshall. You must have the wrong place."

"Oh my God, Eric. It's me!," and in a hush whisper," it's me, Hyperion! I know you, him, and Brock live here."

"The fuck you talking about?"

"Just let him in, Eric!," Brock's gravelly voice ordered from somewhere inside and the Asian rolled his eyes.

"I'm just making sure! Gosh, some y'all forget we're criminals?!" He let Marcus in anyway, just enough to get inside before slamming the door and locking it. Crossbones was on the couch flipping through channels, disheveled and tired. Hyperion could now see that the Grim Reaper was also still in his pajamas, bags under his eyes and wanting nothing more than to go back to sleep.

"Are you guys alright?" 

Brock shut off the tv and looked over his shoulder.

"We're fine. Just nocturnal," he waved a hand down a hallway,"Marsh is in there. Hadn't left his room since he got in."

"We've been worried 'bout him. Ever since he came back from his little date with you, he's been all 'hush, hush'. Didn't even want us going out patrolling so we've been here braiding each others hair and painting our fingernails," Eric snarked from his place at the small table in the kitchen, feet planted right on it. Marcus felt himself blush from their mission together being called a 'date', and he knew he was blushing too by the way Eric shot him a look of smug triumph. He thought he was keeping his affection well hidden too.

"Just go, Marcus,"Brock yawned and hid something under the couch. The superhuman couldn't see what. Now that he took more in, however, he noticed that the apartment looked cleaned up, not that it was a bad thing, but too clean. Almost rushed. He could swear there was stuff hidden under the rugs. He knew, for certain, that three men staying here, the apartment would not be this clean. Even the Citadel got messy from time to time. 

Not wanting to linger, Marcus made his way down the narrow hallway and stopped in front of the door marked 'Boogey' with a crudely drawn Marshall on a piece of paper taped to the surface. Eric must've done it for shits-and-giggles.

He debated for a little while on whether or not he should knock, but then settled that Marshall must already know he's here and if his brothers failed, he'd take matters into his own hands. So, grabbing the knob in his large hands, he twisted it until he heard the lock snap and pushed open the door. The room was dark and musty and as he closed the door behind him, found it smelled overwhelmingly of wax. Marshall was at his desk so when he turned to face the intruder, he quickly shoved something that looked like glasses in a drawer. The large man wasn't aware that Marshall even wore glasses. Adoration swelled inside Marcus at the thought of seeing the smaller man in reading glasses. He filed the information away for later. Papers littered the surface of the desk, all of which were stolen, Marcus knew that much. From agencies and the government alike. Marshall must've been going through them. Next to the desk was a shredder half filled with remnants of information that probably took someone years to collect.

"Why are you here?" Marshall started the conversation on the defensive. He stood as to gain more height on Hyperion, even if the top of his blonde head only reached his chin. His shoulders were tense.

"I was concerned. You just disappeared and-"

"I disappear a lot, Hyperion."

"Dammit, Marshall, please. I'm worried about you."

"You shouldn't be."

Marcus stepped closer, his expression pleading.

"All I want is not to be lied to, Marshall. You can have all the secrets you want, but please just let me know what I'm dealing with. I don't want anything to happen to you."

Something in Marshall snapped because he suddenly got very angry. His dark brows furrowed and his nostrils flared. There was a certain fury in his eyes that the usually composed man didn't have unless the right (or wrong) buttons were pushed. 

"You don't know anything about caring for another person, Marcus! You don't know how to keep them safe, or hidden, or if they're really well off under your care! They're vulnerable and you can't do anything about it because you want them to have a normal life away from the terrorists and gangsters!"

Marshall seemed to realize his emotional slip up, that he let on more than he was meant to, because he shut up after that. His arms were shaking with contained rage and his navy blue eyes were glazed over. He seemed to be punishing himself for the outburst and Marcus could tell it was eating him up inside.

"Marshall...is there something you want to tell me?"

The blonde resigned, pushing back against the desk and covering his palms over the papers. His head slumped against his chest as he ran a hand over his short hair. He looked several years older. Marcus fought the urge to embrace him, to run his fingers over that beautiful head and tell him that he shouldn't worry. That he didn't have to deal with things alone, he had people that cared about him.

"Just fuck off, Hyperion."

Marcus frowned.

"Marshall-"

"I said leave, Hyperion."

"Marshall don't, my name's Marc-"

"If you wanna be fucking useful you'd destroy S.H.I.E.L.D and all their bullshit programs! You'd stop them from hurting us!"

"Marshall, please, listen to yourself for Christ's sake!"

There was a sudden sob from Marshall. The auburn haired male was taken by surprise and he inched closer to the shorter man. There was another sobbing sound and Marcus realized he was taking in deep breaths as to not weep. Marcus' heart shattered. This was happening to quickly for him to keep up. What could have possibly happened to him to force him to break down like this?

"Marshall, are you-" He was shut up with a fist to the face. The Boogeyman took him by surprise and managed to make the punch actually hurt and his head shoot to the side. Marcus' eyes went wide as he rubbed his sore jaw, watching Marshall's face shift through different emotions. He settled on turning his back to the superhuman and focusing on the reports. Marshall appeared tired again. Aged far more than he should be. The fist that hit him was already starting to bruise. Marcus couldn't bring himself to be mad at him.

"They had pictures of her...they were spying on us and they got pictures..."

Her? Was Marshall seeing someone else? Did he have an acquaintance that helped him and his roommates? 

Marshall seemed to sense his confusion because his expression softened into something unreadable, at least from what Marcus could see over his shoulder. He was overwhelmed with the heat radiating off the blonde's back and took a chance by placing his hands at either side of the smaller male's slim hips on the desk. Marshall sighed and picked up a sheet of paper with locations and images. He turned around in Marcus' bubble and shoved the paper against the other's solid chest. Taking only one hand off the slab of wood, he took the paper and was met with the face of a little girl. She looked like a smaller version of Marshall, with blonde hair (not quite as light) and sparkling blue eyes (brighter and more youthful). There were multiple pictures taken, from all angles and one of them was even with her following after a happy looking Marshall, holding his hand. It seemed to be taken from a high rise building, almost as if a sniper was watching them. He now understood why Marshall wanted these out of the databases. They had his face, they had his location, and they had this little girl.

"While you were wreaking havoc on the base that one day, I managed to implant a virus that crippled their archives and when opened from a different server, infected that too. Justin Hammer may be an idiot, but sometimes he gets lucky and makes good tech."

Hyperion looked up from the heartwarming image to give the Boogeyman an amused glance. The shorter man seemed to find the humor because the corner of his lip twitched up. That was the most of a smile Marcus was going to get out of Marshall.

"You bought Hammertech?"

"I stole Hammertech."

Hyperion snickered, his nose centimeters away from Marshall's ear and his enhanced senses could smell everything. Everything that was Marshall was now invading his senses and surrounding him in euphoria. The hand still on the desk gripped it hard enough to splinter. The sound of Marshall's voice drove him out of the haze.

"Hm?"

"She's my little sister. Sadie. She'll be seven in a few months."

Marcus was surprised at the information and the fact he was being told at all. He pulled back his head to look Marshall directly in the eye. The expression on the other villain's face was that of pure openness. This was the first time in years that both the Boogeyman and Marshall had been this willing towards him.

"They got pictures of Brock and Eric too...,"The blonde adds,"I already destroyed them."

Marshall sighed and gazed up at the brunette,"I need to protect my family, Marcus..."

Hyperion nodded. He wanted to help. Wanted to become more part of this inner circle and be surrounded by people he actually didn't mind having around. In the Citadel, he barely tolerated any of them. And Speed Demon was one major pain in the ass. They had joined together out of greed and now Hyperion wanted to branch out to start his own life.

"I wasn't aware you had an actual sibling...,"Marcus comments.

"I do...she lives here and goes to school across the street."

"What about Grim Reaper and Crossbones?"

Marshall snorts. "That's enough. You'll meet her someday..."

"I look forward to it, Marshall."

"Great, now get out, Milton. I have work to do."

"Lemme help."

Marshall pushed against him, his hands protesting against his chest and leading him backwards to the door. Marcus bit his lip and stifled a chuckle. When his back hit the door with a muffled thud, he reached up to grasp the hands touching him. He needed Marshall to keep touching him so he kept him in place, surprised confusion warping the blonde's features.

"No, Hyperion. Marcus." He couldn't tell if Marshall was saying no to his offer or the moment they were sharing. 

Suddenly the hands were gone as the shorter pushed him out the door with more than just regular human force. The door slammed with a hollow echo and Marcus was left with a chilled pool in his gut and a rush in his veins. He's positive he looked dumbfounded even while walking back into the living room. 

Brock was still on the couch, but he was laying on his back with his legs over the arm and Eric was helping himself to a bowl of unidentified mash, eyes intensely watching the clock on the other side of the room.

"Did you talk to him?,"Brock enquired, ruffling his hair as he stretched his arms across his face. Eric's stare never shifted from the clock.

Hyperion rubbed the back of his neck. "Sorta..."

"Well at least you got some words in. You should go now, though."

"Sorry to kick you out,"Eric piped in, still chewing and watching the clock as if he was waiting for something,"but you know how it is. Stay too long; gotta start paying rent."

Marcus nodded dumbly and headed for the door, letting himself out without another word. As he walked down the battered hallway, down the rickety elevator, past the doorman, and down the street, he couldn't help but think about the chivalry in Marshall's breathtakingly loyal duty to keep his family as far away from his alter ego's life as much as possible. How under all that tough, infuriating exterior, there really was a man that cared. That felt. And Marcus felt obligated to protect his image from being tainted, from letting others know this secret part of the Boogeyman that was so fragile and new. 

He was an egotistical extraterrestrial man, he knew, but he also knew that there could be more to himself than just a muscle bound maniac filled with revenge plots and adrenaline. He had an uncanny feeling that maybe it was the Boogeyman that would unravel each difficult layer. That maybe there was more in him than he originally expected of himself when he first came to Earth. He still wanted to kill, still wanted to destroy, but it was quite possible that he wouldn't lose control anymore. Wouldn't be blinded by bloodlust. He wasn't a good man, they weren't good men, not in the world's sick eyes, but he knew that between themselves, they were just as charismatic as the heroes. They had agendas to change the world too. Their methods were simply different than the 'good guys'.

And maybe, just maybe, Mashall Baxter was the one to keep him grounded and sane through it all.


End file.
